Canary in the Wood
by Pir8grl
Summary: Captain Canary Fantasy AU This is inspired by three of my favorite ren faire songs. The plot is loosely adapted from the Archie Fisher song The Witch of the Westmoreland. The first scene is a bit reminiscent of Twa Corbies, and there may be some hints of Battle Ravens, because it always makes me think of Sara. Thank you to the ever-awesome Jael.


The field was eerily quiet in the wake of the battle. Men had long since given up calling on whatever gods there might be, and if any yet lived, they lacked the strength to even moan their pain. The rattle of blood in his lungs was the only sound Leonard was aware of, save for the harsh cawing of crows circling overhead.

"What about that one?" a hoarse voice croaked in the stillness.

"Not dead yet," a second rusty voice replied.

"Soon will be. The blood is sweeter when they're fresh."

"They fight back sometimes, if you start eating before they're dead."

There was a harsh sound, somewhere between a laugh and the rattle of gravel on a coffin.

"The only thing that can save this one is the Witch of the Wood."

"She doesn't like to be called that."

"Think I care what the humans like?"

 _ **That**_ penetrated the haze of pain that clouded Leonard's mind. He cracked his eyes open and saw two ravens perched on a nearby corpse, picking out the eyes. He tried to breath against the searing pain and sucked some foul air into his lungs. It stank of blood and death and burning, and he choked on the stench. The sound attracted the gaze of one of the ravens, and it hopped closer.

Leonard forced himself up on one arm, coughed and spat blood. He drew in a careful breath, then whistled - three sharp, distinct notes.

A grey hawk with ragged tail feathers swooped down on the ravens with murderous intent. The hunting bird was named Michael, after the archangel who was the patron of warriors, but his temper was anything but angelic. Leonard whistled again, one particular note, and the hawk flew to his gauntleted fist. "Thanks, boy. But you know better than to tangle with them. They're nearly as big as you."

"As if I'd let that filth anywhere near you," the bird replied, turning to groom his feathers with his sharp beak.

Leonard startled and nearly dropped him. "Oh gods…I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Not quite, Boss," the bird informed him.

"Boss? You called me Boss?"

"Well, I'm certainly not going to call you master. I leave that to Raymond."

As if on cue, an eager hound loped out of the underbrush, sniffing curiously at anything and everything in his path. Leonard whistled, a different note than he'd used for Michael, and the hound came over to him.

"Please don't tell me he can talk, too."

"Everything can talk, Boss, you just have to know how to listen. But for the moment, no, the drool bucket can't talk. At least not to you."

"But you can?" Leonard asked, looping his free arm around the hound's neck to drag himself into a sitting position.

"I can, right here, right now, for two very good reasons. One is that you're right on the edge of death, but I'm guessing you know that. You're pretty smart, for a human. The other is that you're in the domain of the Lady of the Forest. She _**might**_ be willing to help you with the death part."

"Wait. That raven said something about the Witch of the Wood."

"Some men call her that…mainly men that she's had reason to chastise. She don't like men who hurt women, or children, or anything helpless, for that matter."

There was a rustle at the edge of the trees, and a red-maned mare trotted up beside the fallen warrior. Although most warriors preferred stallions, Gideon was the best trained mount Leonard had ever encountered. The horse was almost preternaturally calm and responsive to the lightest touch of the reins. She was also trained to respond to Leonard's whistle and some vocal commands.

Len looked sharply between the horse and the hawk. If Michael could have rolled his eyes, he would have.

"No, Boss. Horsie can' talk to you either."

"Fine. Talking birds are almost more than I can handle right now."

"I noticed."

"Were you always this rude?"

"Yup."

Leonard retched up more blood, leaving him weak and heaving. He looked around the battlefield, hoping to find some clean water or green moss, but everything was a trampled ruin.

Michael watched him with sharp eyes. "I know what you're thinking, Boss, but there's nothing here that can help you. The weapon you was hit with was cursed. It's not like a clean sword cut. There's poison in your veins right now. The only thing that can save you is the Lady."

"If she's got a thing against men, why would she help me? I've got nothing - no honor, no name - I'm just a common thief who likes a good fight. I killed my own father."

"For a smart guy, you can be pretty stupid sometimes. I've known you since I was hatched. You're the son of an evil man. So what? You killed him to protect your sister. And if you've got no honor, what the hell were you doing, trying to save that village from the likes of Damien Darhk?"

"My sister lives in that village."

"That's the sort of thing that Lady will approve of. An' there's another reason she might be willing to help you. Once that poison has filled your heart and your mind, you'll die. But you won't stay dead, and you won't be you anymore. You'll be Darhk's creature to call."

Leonard's eyes narrowed and he straightened against the considerable pain. "I am _**no one's**_ puppet. How do we find her?"

"We follow the stream for a night and a day, until we come to a pool that's ringed with goldenrod. You pick some and throw it into the water and call upon the Lady. And you _**don't**_ call her a witch, not if you want to get out of there alive."

"This is absurd. I can't believe I'm having this conversation with anyone - let alone my own hawk!"

"Hey - it's your funeral - literally. If you stay here, you're just gonna puke up blood until you die. Then something even bigger and nastier than the ravens will come along and chow down on horsie and the mutt."

"And you?"

"I can fly, remember?"

* * *

Leonard slumped in his saddle. A steed less surefooted than Gideon surely would have let him fall to the ground long ago. The thought of never seeing Lisa again - or worse, becoming something that could hurt her - was all that kept him going. Raymond bounded along at his side, and Michael flew overhead, guiding his path.

"How do I know if she'll help me?" Leonard asked. "I could just be picking a different spot in this forest to die."

"Could be, Boss. But you won't know until we get there."

"How do you even know where we're going?"

"'Cuz I've been there before. Remember that time when I went missing for a few weeks? Some damn fool used me for target practice and I got a busted wing. The Lady found me and fixed me up. I'm not too sure how it works for people, though. I think you might have to pass some sorta test before she'll help you."

"That is remarkably unenlightening."

"Hey, if you'd rather turn around?"

"Who goes there?" a voice challenged.

A quick glance upward revealed the stately form of a great horned owl.

"Really?" Leonard muttered.

"Boss here is lookin' for the Lady of the Forest," Michael explained in a carefully neutral tome.

"The Lady is not over-fond of human men," the owl replied somewhat formally.

"Was hopin' she might make an exception for him."

"Why do you serve him? You and these others?"

"We been together a long time. We protect one another," Michael replied carefully.

"And what will you do within these borders?"

"We're not looking for a fight," Leonard answered. "Look, we're going to need to eat at some point. Killing for food or for defense - that's just the way of the world. I don't kill for sport, if that's what you're worried about."

"You speak wisely - for a human. We shall see what the Lady thinks of you. If you survive her test, that is."

Leonard pressed a hand to his wound. It came away stained with fresh blood. "Are we nearly there?"

"Very nearly," the owl confirmed. "Just around the bend in the stream. I wish you well, friend of Michael."

They rounded the bend and entered a clearing, with a deep pool in the center. Swans glided on the surface of the water, and a sense of peace pervaded the area. Leonard dismounted, and nearly collapsed when his feet hit the ground. He looked at his battered rowan shield, hanging from the saddle, and decided it was more trouble - and weight - than it was worth just then.

"Is it all right for Gideon to graze here?" he asked Michael, wincing at the absurdity of the question.

"Horsie's fine. Me and the mutt can hunt, within reason."

"And you know this how?"

"Told you Boss, I been here before. I know the rules."

Leonard patted Gideon's neck, then walked slowly to the edge of the water. His ashen face was reflected back at him, streaked with blood and grime. He leaned forward and cupped some of the clear, cold water in his hands and drank deeply, then splashed some on his face and neck.

He picked a spray of goldenrod and cast it into the pool. "I call upon the Lady of the Forest."

One of the swans blurred into the form of a graceful woman, treading water in the center of the lake. She had piercing aquamarine eyes and wet blonde hair plastered over her shoulders. With a startled oath, she blurred into the form of a white falcon and shot up into the sky.

"Follow her, Boss," Michael instructed.

Leonard lurched to his feet, one hand clutched over his wound while he tried to keep his eyes on the bird in flight. He staggered through the trees until he came to another clearing, just a small space in the center of a ring of tall trees. The branches were alive with birds of all sorts, from tiny songbirds, to mighty birds of prey.

"Any words of advice?" Leonard muttered, eyeing the occupants of the trees warily.

"You need to find her, Boss…and I can't help you. And if you guess wrong -"

"I don't make it out of here." Leonard looked around the ring of trees. He saw a falcon, but it didn't look quite like the one he'd been following. Then again, that would be too easy. The Lady had already demonstrated an ability to shape shift. He tried to think his way through the problem.

There were owls there, several kinds. Men called the Lady a witch. Owls were thought to symbolize wisdom, weren't they? Then again, he'd heard tales of what happened to men who crossed her. He considered the raptors. None of them seemed quite right.

Then he spied a tiny, golden canary, the sort that ladies kept in cages in fine houses. How could that delicate little thing survive out here? Unless… He stripped off the heavy gauntlet and held out his hand. The diminutive bird hopped onto his finger and he smiled at the wonder of it.

The little bird blurred, and he found himself holding the hand of a lovely blonde woman, dressed in a blue velvet gown, girdled with a silver chain. Her grip was stronger than he might have expected.

"You're beautiful," he said wonderingly, the words escaping his mouth without any conscious thought.

"You sound surprised," she replied, revealing a wonderful dimpled smile.

"Some men call you a witch. It raises certain expectations about your appearance."

She shrugged slightly. "Men call me many things. You can call me Sara, if you like. I'm guessing you came here for help with that?" she continued, gesturing to the bloody mess on his side.

Leonard wavered slightly on his feet, suddenly feeling the pain of the wound anew after his exertions. "It was caused by a cursed weapon. I'm told it will do worse than kill me. I'm also told that you're the only one who can possibly help me."

"I can. Tell me why I _**should**_."

He huffed out a sigh of frustration. "For me? No reason. No reason at all. I'm nothing but a thief and a brawler. I have no future. But…Michael says that the poison will turn me into Darhk's creature. I spent my youth serving my father, who was an utter piece of crap. I won't be anyone's pawn, ever again."

Sara held out one small hand, and Michael perched on her arm, ever so carefully, so as not to snag her sleeve. She looked deeply into his eyes for a moment, then nodded slightly. Michael flew through the air to alight in a nearby tree.

"You defended your sister from your father, who was an evil man. You faced Damien Darhk to save a village. These are the actions of a hero."

"I'm no -"

She smiled then. "Maybe not yet, but you will be."

"How do you know all that?" Leonard asked sharply.

"I know many things." She looked into his eyes with a deep, searching gaze. "Tell me Leonard, of all the things in this world, what is it you want the most?"

He knew then that _**this**_ was the real test, and that nothing but the truth of his heart would serve. "I want to live free. I want to see my sister again, and know that she's safe and happy."

Sara nodded in satisfaction. Then she gifted him with another of those beautiful smiles. "Come," she invited, looping her arm through his.

Sara led Leonard back to the water's edge. She gently divested him of his jerkin and bloodstained shirt, then guided him to lay back in the soft grass. She plucked some of the goldenrod and laid it over the ugly wound.

"Is that it?" he asked, puzzled.

"Not quite," Sara replied, smiling. And then she leaned in and kissed him.

* * *

Leonard woke to the noonday sun glinting off the water. Sara was curled in his arms, warm and soft. Their clothes were scattered around them, and he could quite clearly see that the awful wound was gone from his side. He inhaled deeply, with no pain, and filled his lungs with fresh, fragrant air.

Sara lifted her head from his chest and smiled lazily.

"How is this possible?" Leonard asked, stroking her hair back over her shoulder.

Sara bit her lip, looking away from his gaze. "It's an ancient magic, learned in a place called Nanda Parbat."

"That place has an evil reputation. How did you come to be there?"

"The daughter of Ra's al Ghul saved my life. I served him, out of love for her. Does that…shock you?"

"It's hardly my place to judge anyone."

"But if it was?"

"Then I'd say that there are far worse reasons than love for doing something."

Leonard chuckled softly.

"What?"

"I think you really have bewitched me. I don't talk about…love…and feelings…"

"But you have them." She laid a gentle hand over his heart. "There is a good, brave man, hidden inside all that ice and bluster."

"And there's a good, brave woman, hidden inside the Witch."

Her smile turned sad. "Once, perhaps. I have much to atone for."

"Don't we all?"

Leonard slipped a heavy silver ring off his smallest finger. "I know that you're very formidable, but if there's ever anything I can do for you, send me this, and I'll come as fast as Gideon can carry me."

She slipped the ring onto her middle finger, the only one it would fit on. "If you ever need me, send Michael. He and I understand one another. I have one final gift for you."

"What's that?" Leonard asked curiously.

"The magic I used to heal you…it lingers. You're not quite invincible, but you are much harder to kill now. And you'll still be able to talk to Michael."

"Just so I don't have to put up with Raymond's babbling," he drawled.

Sara leaned in and kissed him again, and it was some time before they moved from that place.


End file.
